


Regretfully moving forward

by Effenay



Series: Time Tests its Waters (Sherlolly) [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Internal Monologue, Moving On, Sherlock absent, Unrequited Love, between S2 & S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9539843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Effenay/pseuds/Effenay
Summary: 'Nine months passed since the notorious Sherlock Holmes' supposed suicide. The city of London mourned as much as it scorned at the tragic loss of one of England's most brilliant minds. As much as Molly was the only one who knew that the man in question is well and truly alive, she, in doubt wonders if he was ever going to go back.'An interpretation of what might have happened between S2 and S3.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know that this is probably like three years old to write stuff about what happened in S3 but I can't help it. In order to get up to that point of the Final Problem, One has to take a step back. Also, I kinda tried to make the engagement with Tom a bit more believable I hope.

Nine months passed since the notorious Sherlock Holmes' supposed suicide. The city of London mourned as much as it scorned at the tragic loss of one of England's most brilliant minds.

Every staff who knew of Molly's affiliation with the late detective all tip-toed around her, giving her the much needed space she needed after losing the man whom she was head-over-heels with.  Her friend Meena and all the rest whom she had been well acquainted with were patient with her. The few who knew Sherlock well enough bonded through the loss, kept in contact with each other and shared a night raising their glasses to the world's first consulting detective. Each of them gave each other space, each of them told stories of their encounters with Sherlock, each of them mutually prayed that the accusations and the lies that the media fed to the public will all come to light at some point. It pained her so as she watched the only man whom Sherlock referred to as a friend gradually becoming more distant from everyone else. Some part of her felt the need to tell him the truth that his friend is alive and truly well.

But as much as Molly was the only one who knew that the man in question is well and truly alive, she, in doubt wonders if he was ever going to go back.

Playing the risk of faking his death was no easy task, but the task that followed was no easier feat for Sherlock's end. Molly vaguely remembered the details as of this point, but what she could recall the nature of the mission he had to fulfill. Taking down an entire spiderweb of Moriarty's network demanded a risk on his own safety. It was made clear to her that there was a chance he won't ever come back alive.

The way he left her flat on that night still haunted her in some way upon that knowledge alone. Although his stay in her flat was brief, for her she cradled the memory into her heart. The satisfaction of what it is have someone she loves depending on her was more than an honor. But as the days flew by into weeks; and the weeks into months; even at the test of time she began to doubt her own heart.

A part of her wanted to be patient and have faith in his return; but the other half, which was the impending reality that was slowly sinking into her system told her that she can't stay this way forever. That same half told her that she has to move on.

"Molly you can't keep going on like this," Meena chided at her at one point. "You need to get over him. He's not coming back, no matter how hard you're going to try. You should get out more, find someone new. Have a fresh start."

Molly remained silent but nodded at her words. If Sherlock really had died, she knew she would have taken it the same way John was coping with it. The valid nature of Meena's words would make more sense to her, but it wasn't. Sherlock is alive. He was just missing.

It was three weeks after the conversation did Meena set Molly up for a blind date, regardless of Molly's silent protests. Reluctant as she was to comply with her friend's request, some part of her hoped that the date might not end well.

But that was the problem. It ended far too well for her taste.

His name was Tom. Wide-eyed, tall and always smiling. After a few exchanges in conversation, not only did he pick up on her morbid sense of humor, almost immediately they were hitting it pretty well within the a moment's notice. The worst part ( _best part_ she told herself) was that he was everything that Sherlock was not. Courteous, mindful, sweet Tom who was willing to follow up on her request. Although she didn't pay close attention on his fashion sense, there was an air about him that was slowly convincing her that this will, and might just work out for her.

After they bid they goodbyes for the rest of the night, she retired onto the sofa, drearily rethinking about the predicament she's found herself into. Toby hopped onto her lap, the calico clawing at her front as he demanded her attention. She cooed at the feline and scratched its ears as her thoughts reflected on the events of her blind date.

"Oh Toby," she sighed, rubbing her nose on the feline's head. "What am going to do?"

The feline mewed, blinking at his owner as he purred.

In the back of her mind, she was then reminded of the man who disappeared from her flat on that night. Traces of his presence within her sanctuary was slowly disappearing bit by bit.

Why should she care? She's never had a chance with him in the first place. Not to mention that there was a strong possibility that he might not even come back at all.

Her phone buzzed in her bag, bringing her to get up and swipe her phone to unlock it. On her screen was a message from an unknown number.

_"I had a wonderful time this evening. This is Tom btw"_

She smiled at the message, she immediately replied.

_"Thank you Tom. It was a lovely night."_

_"Would you like to have coffee? Tomorrow? My treat."_

She paused at the question, still trying to convince herself that this is really happening. After a short debate, whilst pushing out any thoughts of Sherlock out of her system she replied;

_"Why not. What time do you have in mind?"_

From there on, she began seeing the man from time to time whenever their personal timetables didn't clash. They went out on dates, slowly getting to know each other step by step. Everything about him was less stressful with him, as he did his best to cater to her needs. After spending more time with him, she became more confident in herself as he boosted that confidence with his assurance. Although he wasn't perfect, as every man woman and child had flaws, he complimented her in any way possible.

Then one night, she dreamed of Sherlock Holmes. His presence filling the room as if he had never left. His behavior running along as he complimented her for her hair, make-up or whatever it is that he could point out in hopes of having her doing him a favor. But this time, she said no, but told him squarely that if he wanted something from her, he should have asked her without using such under-handed methods.

In her wake, her heart thrummed in her chest, upset at the reminder that he was still out there, alive and well. Possibly.

By then, she had already met Tom's parents, making plans on having their relationship last longer than their current span of eight months. And yet all it took was one dream to stir her confidence in that relationship.

"Is everything alright?" he asked her.

She blinked, looking up at the tall man who's face reflected his concern. Part of her wanted to brush it aside, another part of her felt that the man before her ought to know of her misgivings of the sentiment she held for the man who was no longer there with them.

"It's nothing," she said.

"No," he shook his head. "I don't think so."

He bent down before her, they were in her flat and they were on a house date at the time.

"You don't have to tell me now," he said. "But whatever it is that's bothering you, just remember that in order to make this work we have to be more honest about each other, okay?"

Her lips quivered into a smile, touched by his words and kissed him on the lips.

"Okay," she said, embracing him with everything she had.

 _This could really work after all,_ she told herself.

It was also on that day did she give herself to him as he did with her. They began sharing their beds, spending more and more time with each passing week. She convinced herself she was happy. Happy with Tom. Happy with the life she had now. And yet. A lingering doubt hung loose within the corner of her mind.

And then, one day he proposed to her. He was clearly nervous, it was all too endearing to watch him as he bent the knee before her very eyes. She said 'yes' in the spur of the moment, happy to know that someone was willing to take her as she was and have a family with her at long last.

On that night after he proposed, as she slept on her bed with Tom beside her, once more the missing consulting detective returned to her dreams.

This time, he was more forceful. This time, he was being a crueler man towards her. In her dream he told her that she should spare Tom from the pain and break it off before it was too late. Telling her that the truth was that she was still not over Sherlock and that she was lying to herself. Demanding of her to be more honest with herself rather than have her spend the rest of her days denying what she had held back all this time.

In her wake, she gasped. Stifling her sobs in hopes of not waking her sleeping fiance. Well aware of how dreams are a reflection of her subconsciousness, she was more than upset with what she had to see. She slipped off her bed and washed her face to remove any traces of her tears.

 _This can't keep going on forever,_ she told herself.  _He isn't coming back._

For the following weeks, she did her best to keep herself in check, holding things on as she tried to her best to treasure Tom in her mind and in her heart. But for every kiss, there was a set back. A lingering doubt that was slowly seeping out of her.

Tom asked if she was alright. She convinced him that she was fine, and it was just the stress at work. Some part of her wondered how much did Meena tell him about her in prior to their first date.

By then it was officially well over two years since Sherlock had disappeared. Things were growing steadily for her. Things had been good for her.

On that morning, she strolled her way after a long shift to the locker room to collect her wallet from her designated locker. The weight of having to handling the labs facilities were wearing her muscles. She didn't have any plans with Tom that day and she had every intention of spending the rest of of the day with Toby and unwinding from all the work she had to put up with.

And then, as she unlocked her locker, there he was; standing stalk-still within the view of the reflection of her mirror. With one glance, her heart thrummed in its familiar rhythm; suddenly all emotions that she had long repressed kick started at the sight of his glassy eyes.

Sherlock Holmes, back from the dead. Ready bring back all the troubles that she had back into her life.

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who's ever familiar with my work, I am a lesser Romantic in writing despite my love for reading them. But how I write romance or even ships are more subtle when it comes to showing affection whilst trying to depict characters as close to its source material as possible. Often resulting into painfully slow burns and well, romance feels like its almost none-existent until the very end. So. With that said, as my work is neither been beta read nor drafted and redrafted so I'm open for criticisms of any sort whatsoever because I'm such an insecure writer of the sort who needs to hear what the readers say. Does that sound...too needy? Haha XD


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